Reflection
"Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection someone I don't know?
Somehow I cannot hide who I am, though I've tried.
When will my reflection show who I am inside?"
- Reflection, Mulan
Author's Note:
Hello!
Sorry I've been so long updating… I've been having some health issues but they're all basically worked out now and I hope to be writing more, especially as next semester my classes are pretty light.
As always, I own nothing but original characters and owe everything else to J.K. Rowling! And, as always, feel free to leave comments, reviews, or suggestions!
Enjoy!
"If you three walk any slower we won't get there before exams," Theo huffed. The three he referred to with such annoyance were Benji, Bo and me. The "there" was unknown to us. Theo only said that it was a quiet place that not many knew about, one his brother told him of.
The reason for our slowness was an unfortunate event that took place in Bo and Theo's Charms last class; as a result of this unfortunate event, several Slytherins no longer had eyebrows. Bo was in the process of explaining to us how Crabbe was trying to levitate a feather and pulled off an explosion worthy of Seamus Finnigan's envy, and he, Bo, was doubled over laughing as he tried to describe Malfoy's browless face.
It was a Wednesday, just a week after Neville's accident. His wrist was still sore—I could tell when he tried to write—but his head wound had healed up nicely and my tie, no longer blood-stained, was back in its rightful place around my temples. It was 6:15 now. We had eaten dinner quickly and changed into regular clothing so Theo could bring us to this spot. The professors were running their weekly spells workshop later that evening, but none of us were planning on attending.
We now found ourselves on stone-structured path reminiscent of pictures Benji had shown me of the Great Wall of China. It turned and twisted a little as is slowly declined, going down to the Lake. I suddenly remembered seeing this bridge from a much different view; we had seen it when we first arrived at Hogwarts by boat!
The view here was magnificent. White-tipped waves in the Black Lake stood out like stars against a night sky. The gorgeous green mountains looked youthful and free, though they were doubtless thousands of years old and trapped by their own immense weight.
We were almost at the water now. The castle stood proud above, magnificently announcing to all that we, the inferiors, could never hold as much history, knowledge, thoughts, secrets, as she. It was true. Leaving the school, one felt a great weight lifted from their mind; it wasn't a necessarily unpleasant weight, but it was always there. The weight of years and lives passed, the weight of love and loss and discovery, the weight of the invisible, the intangible, the impossible. There was a spirit of youth, of life, of learning in this castle that seemed to invade the mind of all who entered. Even so far below it, one could feel a tug to their own creativity, curiosity, and thirst for understanding. It was a strange effect.
Finally, we reached a long set of stairs, which after several minutes of descent led us to a lookout, closed in by thick rock walls. It was a large space with a few little tables, covered in dust and cobwebs. Clearly this area had not seen people for a while. We were a few rocky metres above the Lake. Waves threw themselves against the cliff face, splashing higher and higher each time, as if their primary goal was to reach and consume us. We all stopped and took in the unusual view. Cliff walls were on both sides and behind us, tunnelling our vision and forcing all focus on one mountain in particular. The castle was no longer visible.
"Is this it?" Benji asked.
Theo shook his head. "No."
He turned and grabbed one of the little chairs from one of the little tables, dragging it to the corner of the lookout where the rock wall met the cliff. He stepped up on it looked at us, and jumped over the wall.
"Theo!" Bo yelled, running to the spot where the boy had disappeared from. Benji and I followed. Thoughts raced through my head: neck or back broken, need Skele-Gro, levitate, possible concussion…
We three looked over the edge and saw Theo, standing a metre below us on solid ground, several feet from the edge, smirking up at us. Bo let out a huge sigh of relief, while Benji looked more angry at Theo for scaring us. I wondered if we were supposed to jump as well.
Theo, after assuring us he was indeed okay, began poking around the large stone bricks with his wand. Three from cliff, four up–one, two, three, four, five, six, seven taps–up one, left two–one tap, pause, one, two taps–five left, one down–hold for five seconds. Suddenly, the stones began to grow outwards, extending out from the wall and pushing Theo back. He stepped to the side as six steps appeared and a small railing popped out from them. The sound was quieter than expected; a soft humming rather than a loud grinding.
When the stones stopped moving, none of us moved for several moments. Theo looked at us expectantly and gestured impatiently. "Well come on!"
Bo, Benji, and I glanced at one another cautiously. My curiosity got the best of me first and I climbed up onto the chair. Benji and Bo offered me their hands (which I politely declined) as I stepped from the chair to the wall's edge. Standing on this wall, I had an intense appreciation and fear for how high up we really were. I was walking down to a dirt ledge, six feet wide, but off that edge was a sheer and tall drop. I reached the bottom of the newly grown staircase and looked up in anticipation at Benji and Bo. In less than a minute, both were down and Theo was again tap, tap, tapping away at the stone wall. The stairs collapsed back into the wall, leaving not even a disruption in the dirt to indicate it had been there.
I was confused, but not how I usually am. Confusion, for me, is usually catalyzed by the presence of other people. Their actions, their words, their looks all jumble my mind and make thought difficult. This confusion, though, was purely my own ignorance of the situation. It was a welcome change from the heavy weight of other people on my mind.
Theo walked, silently, around the front of the wall. The ledge here was smaller, maybe three feet. Suddenly, the dark and violent waves, the aggressive juts and ridges of the cliff, the great height at which we were at– they all brought me back to a memory. All I see is falling, down, down, down a cliff, a fall that should have killed him many times over. Flailing arms, legs kicking, and a desperate plea for help in his eyes as he plummeted to the ocean below where the waves would end his life. And the terror and anger and confusion began to set in once again. I didn't even know his name.
A quiet scream shook me from this dark place; I don't know which of the three boys it was–and I doubt any of them would ever admit it–but one of them was apparently terrified of a small black bird…
"Vito!" I said as my feathery companion landed on my shoulder. I had only been to the Owlery once, but Vito came to visit me in my dorm often. Lavender wasn't fond of him, but Hermione, the only one of us who knew what The Godfather was, found his name quite humorous.
Benji knew Vito, but it occurred to me that the others did not. "This is Vito," I explained. "His full name's The Godfeather. I guess it's a muggle thing. Rohesia got him for me in a bet."
"He's small," Bo noted, "even for a barn owl. I don't think I've ever seen a black owl."
"Yeah, Vito's a little… different," I said, as he pecked at my wand, tucked up snugly in my hair. Then, I noticed he had a small piece of paper tied to his leg.
"Read it in a minute," Theo said, frustrated by all the delays we had thus presented him with. He turned and continued along this thin ledge.
We followed him carefully, Vito choosing to ride on my shoulder instead of actually acting like a bird and flying. We reached another cliff wall, and Theo bent down to carefully inspect an unassuming shrub. He then grabbed it from the bottom and yanked it up, taking out a perfectly square section of dirt; no root system was visible. Revealed was an opening, large enough for an average person to fit through, dark, deep, and with a rickety ladder.
"Who's first?" Theo asked, cheerful in his own way. When none of us answered he said: "Fine, I'll go. Whoever's last, put the plant back. It's kind of sensitive about it's spot, I've heard." He respectfully placed the shrub on the ground and carefully began to descend into the black depth.
Benji followed next, then myself with Vito, and finally Bo. Upon reaching the bottom, down a total of 15 ladder rungs spaced an uncomfortably far distance apart, we stood in silent blackness. Benji whispered to me: "I'm now quite certain that Theo is going to murder us."
"Relax, Benji! If I were to murder someone, it wouldn't be you three. Wait one second while I find–" bang, crash, and a yelp of pain, "the stove." He fiddled with something or other, matches or magic, and the fire in the stove was lit. Subsequently, twenty or so torches sparked to life, illuminating every corner of what had turned out to be a small, well-furnished room. Dark couches, thick rugs, a bookshelf, and an elegant coffee-table made this windowless room feel cozy and safe.
"My brother told me about this place," Theo explained. "I guess some students back in the seventeenth century made it. They were really smart and put an unknowable spell or something on it so only one group of students every seven years could know about it. Franklin graduated last year, and told me about it." He smirked a little: "I can't imagine what him and Dad will think when I inform them who exactly I've brought here."
Bo glanced around. "This place is awesome! And no one but us knows about it?" He crashed on one couch. "I claim this spot," he said. Clearly, he chose it because of its proximity to the bookshelf. "Arrange yourselves accordingly." Benji snorted and took a spot across from Bo on the opposite couch. I joined him on the other end, while Theo chose the only armchair.
"Thanks for bringing us here, Theo," Benji said. Bo and I agreed and thanked him gratefully. Vito hooted softly. I can imagine that Theo had spent many hours deciding whether or not to show us this place; being a loner in our school society, he likely enjoyed the solitude and privacy this room afforded. I know I would.
"My pleasure," Theo said cordially. His tone switched to dry sarcasm: "Now open your letter, Dally. What does dear Aunt Rohesia have to say?"
It hadn't even occurred to me in the past few weeks to send Rohesia or Xavier a letter, and I would never have thought that they might send me one. But upon Theo's remark, I realized that there wouldn't be anyone else to send me something. Gently, I took the letter from Vito's foot and unravelled it. Sure enough, it was from dear Aunt Rohesia. I read aloud to Benji, Bo, and Theo:
Dear Dalaria,
I suppose that in your first few weeks at Hogwarts, you have become quiet busy and possibly overwhelmed by the immense responsibility of being a student of magic. I remember my first days at Hogwarts as being full of new adventure and excitement. I can completely understand if all of this next excitement has caused us to slip your mind, and I decided to take the initiative to reach out to you.
How are you, Dalaria? Narcissa wrote me in September, telling me about a letter she had from Draco the very first. Much of the details were about your cousin, but she did mention that you had been sorted into the House of Gryffindor. Your uncle and I thought perhaps you might be ashamed or worried about our reaction to this news; I can say that while this is certainly unexpected, we hope that you will make the Lestrange and Rastrick names proud.
I trust you are making smart decisions in selecting your companions. The Hudson girl came by and mentioned that her boy is also attending Hogwarts. I understand that you were acquaintances, but seeing as you now have a wider array of suitable candidates, we, that is, Xavier and I would like to suggest that you reconsider this friendship. His mother is an insufferable woman-
I saw Benji tense in the corner of my eye. I continued.
I can only imagine her son is the same. Your cousin is keeping company with the young Misters Crabbe and Goyle I believe; their families are reputable and quite lovely. Perhaps you would consider keeping company with them as well. I know you aren't fond of Draco, but I am sure he is quite delightful. He's much like his father.
Who are your roommates? I trust you are getting along well. And what of your classes? I was always fond of Divination, though I believe you will not take that until your third year. Hogwarts is rather lovely this time of year. Have the Quidditch matches begun?
Your uncle has been travelling through the Balkans, conducting interviews for his work. Cyrus has gone with him, so I am alone at Rastrick House. I am planning on visiting my family near Glasgow for several weeks before Xavier returns. If you plan on replying to this letter, ensure that Vito knows where he is going.
Dalaria, I sincerely wish you all the best in your first year at Hogwarts. Your uncle and I look forward to hearing from you. Narcissa and Lucius insist on having you at the Manor for Christmas; I hope you won't refuse.
I will be anxiously expecting your reply. Have a splendid term.
Regards,
Rohesia
The letter teemed with sickly sweet sentiment, shrouded in false concern and barely hiding her quiet rage.
"Well she sounds… pleasant," Bo said.
Benji was chuckling a little on the other side of the couch. Theo, who had frowned during my entire reading of the letter, turned to him and inquired as to what he found so humorous.
"She called Crabbe- Crabbe and G-G-Goyle-" he broke into a fit of laughter and could barely get the rest out: "lovely! Quite lovely in fact! The lovely Mr. Crabbe, the lovely Mr. Goyle!"
I started laughing with him, and soon Bo joined in. Even Theo chuckled a little. It was a situation unlike any one I had been in before; laughing uncontrollably, barely able to breathe, with each of us alternatively adding something that only made everything funnier; what a wonderful state to be in.
That evening, the fragile foundation of hidden truths upon which the peace of our dorm stood imploded.
Benji, Bo, Theo, and I had spent several hours in the little getaway, talking and laughing, and I arrived back at Gryffindor Tower barely before curfew. I had a little Herbology homework, which I completed just before eleven. My roommates were still up, enjoying their usual hobbies; Chris had some coloured pencils and paper, Lavender and Pavarti were spread out on the floor with several magazines, and Hermione was intently studying a thick textbook. She was frowning and flipping, scanning the pages quickly. I myself was getting comfortable with Wells' The Time Machine, a favourite of Benji's.
"Excuse me," Hermione said, timidly. We looked up, all surprised. Hermione rarely talked once she got into a book. "Can I ask a question?"
"Sure, Hermione," Pavarti said, turning to face her, cross-legged. "What's up?"
"Well, I have this dictionary here, a wizarding dictionary," Hermione began, "since, as you know, I am muggle-born and there are certain terms and such that are unfamiliar." The "unfamiliar" was clearly painful for her to say; it was hard for her to admit she didn't know something.
"And?" Chris prodded, after Hermione had gone silent for a few seconds.
"I heard a few students earlier today mention a word that I didn't know, but when I went to look it up, it wasn't in here. Could you explain it to me?"
We nodded.
Hermione breathed out in relief. "Thanks. So the word was 'mudblood.' What does that mean?"
A lot could have been inferred about our characters from the way that Chris, Lavender, Pavarti, and I each reacted. Chris jumped down from her little perch, her drawing of what looked like the Hogwarts castle falling to the floor, anger flaring in her eyes and ready to pummel the ones to whom that word had belonged that day. Pavarti crawled up onto Hermione's bed with the look of a mother about to tell her child a sad reality. Lavender didn't move; she sat on the floor, wide-eyed in shock and horror. As for myself, I cautiously followed Pavarti's lead, sitting on the foot of her bed.
"Hermione," Pavarti said slowly, "who said that?"
Hermione, her face confused and shocked at our unusual reactions, said carefully: "It was a Slytherin boy. Malfoy, I think. Draco Malfoy."
"Of course," said Lavender.
"Bastard," Chris and I said in unison.
"What? What's wrong?" Hermione asked. The silence was awkward and uncomfortable for a few moments when I began to speak. Like "ripping off a Band-Aid," as the muggle idiom goes, I decided to just go for it.
"It's a really, really bad word," I said, "a slur for muggle-borns. Some… people… have, um, issues, with muggles."
I couldn't describe the look on her face. It was pain and anger and fear and embarrassment all rolled up into one pitiful expression. Her eyes started to water a little, but, blinking quickly, she held the tears back. Pavarti was holding her hand; Chris's eyes were still blazing; and Lavender's silent shock now turned to vocal anger.
"Yeah," she snorted,"some people. Worst ones on Earth if you ask me," she said knowingly. Pavarti threw a magazine at her to shut her up, but Lavender continued. "Some people really are just horrible people, you know. I can't imagine what sort of family is just so awful to other people."
"Lavender," Pavarti whispered sternly.
Hermione sniffed. "What? What are you talking about?" I turned towards Lavender, silently pleading with her not to out me, not now. As it turns out, it was Chris I should have been pleading with.
"Dally's family, they're killers," she burst out with, then suddenly realizing the consequences of her words, clapped her hands over her mouth. An impulsive girl, she probably had no malicious or hateful intentions with her words; the pressure of the secrets had just gotten to her. Who was I to blame her? She was right, after all.
Still, my mouth dropped slightly and collectively, we gasped.
"Wh–What?" Hermione whimpered, drawing back from me. Pavarti threw Chris a stern look and then turned to me, shocked.
"Oh– Oh my god," Chris said slowly, coming to terms with her words. "Dally, I, I am so, so, sorry. I didn't- I mean, I know you're– you're not– you hate–"
"Chris, stop!" Lavender groaned.
"What is she talking about, Dally?" Hermione asked accusingly, tears now falling down her face. This was an inescapable hell. The words fell out of my mouth, stabbing and hurting and harsh. Not one of my roommates interrupted me as I told the story:
"Before we were all born, there were some real bad people. Death Eaters, they were called. They were the Dark Lord's followers. That's You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, whatever you want to call him. My mum, my dad, they… they were Death Eaters. They're awful people, Hermione, some of the worst on Earth. The Dark Lord, he wanted all the power and hated muggles and wanted to, to get rid of all of them, especially muggle-born witches and wizards. My dad, Rab- Rabastan, he wasn't a stellar Death Eater or anything, just your average evil I guess, if you can say that. But Bella, my mom, Bellatrix… she… she's different. She's worse. She's evil, real evil. Psychopath, sociopath, however you want to say it. She just likes to hurt, likes the blood. I… I look a lot like her. The eyes and hair, I guess. They're all Slytherins. Not that all Slytherins are bad, it's just… yeah."
I took a deep breath, shakily.
"Bellatrix and Rabastan and a few others, after the Dark Lord fell–you know, and Harry Potter survived?–they went to the Longbottoms'. Neville's parents. They were Aurors. My parents… my mother… tortured them really bad. They all went to Azkaban. Most of the Death Eaters did. Not all. I wasn't quite two yet. They sent me to live with my aunt and uncle, Xavier and Rohesia–Rohesia's my dad's sister–and my cousin Cyrus in Collic's Downs."
I paused again, taking in the faces around me: Hermione's covered in an intricate lacelike pattern of tears; Lavender's conflicted by contempt and sympathy; Chris, confused; and Pavarti, her expression shrouded in so many emotions it was unreadable.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. I had nothing else to say, so I sat back down on my bed.
No other words were spoken between us that night.
Author's Note:
I made a small reference to one of my favourite quotes in this chapter:
"The positive thinker sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible." - Winston Churchill
And yes, I realize the whole "Mudblood" thing came up in Chamber of Secrets, but I felt that the tension between the roommates needed to be brought up somehow and this seemed appropriate.
